Bad Day At Sun Hill
by illman
Summary: It's a bad day for the Sun Hill officers.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Bad Day At Sun Hill

Author: hexicode aka illman

Fandom/pairing (if appropriate): The Bill, no pairing

Summary: It's a bad day for the Sun Hill officers

Rating: if you're old enough to watch the show, you should be okay with this

Warnings: none

Disclaimers: The characters and settings aren't mine. No profit is being made, this is for entertainment only.

A/N: This story is a heavily edited version of my 2008 NaNoWriMo story. Most of you may not be familiar with the majority of the characters as this tale is set in 1989. I tried to stick to the technology available back then, but if I did overlook something, I apologize.

OOo

It seemed like the whole of Sun Hill was still asleep. Fog was lingering between the streets and the sun was just starting to climb over the houses in the distance. Brind knew of course that the impression was all too misleading. Otherwise, if there were no villains about this early, they wouldn't be out already trying to catch bail jumpers. But the chief inspector who had ordered the initiative had reasoned that the early bird catches the worm and hence they were out on the streets well before her shift would normally have started. But Brind saw another reason behind their early start - the earlier they would bring in the bail jumpers, the sooner they could go on to their regular duties, preferably without accumulating overtime in the process.

"Too early for you?" Sergeant Cryer who was with her that morning asked with a hint of reproach in his voice. Clearly she hadn't been entirely successful in hiding the urge to yawn.

"No, no," she reassured him, "it's just been a late night yesterday. And I didn't sleep all too well either."

"You were on that car accident, the nasty pile up on Claybourne Street yesterday?"

Brind nodded, but said nothing.

"Those can be tough to deal with."

"I'm okay, sarge."

"If you say so. Might be worth heading to bed early tonight though," Cryer suggested, before turning back to the sheet the chief inspector had handed out to each team that morning. On it were the names and addresses of the people they were assigned to bring in on outstanding warrants.

"This should be it," Cryer said as they turned a corner into Monfort Street. "Michael Jones, Monfort Street 23."

"What are we bringing him in for?" Brind asked. The briefing had consisted of a veritable litany of names and most of them hadn't stuck. Again, she blamed the early hour and the lack of sleep the previous night.

"He was due in court on a charge of drunk driving last month. He didn't show up."

"Last month and we are only getting around to this now?" Brind hadn't really meant to say that out loud.

"Well, at least you understand why Inspector Conway wants this done so urgently. Some of these people had outstanding warrants for months."

They continued walking down the street until they stopped in front of house number 23. A series of three steps led up to the red painted front door. There was light in the window beside it, indicating that they at least hadn't made the trip for nothing. An advantage of the early hour, Brind guessed. People were more likely to be at home and not at work or otherwise out and about. Cryer climbed the steps and rung the doorbell. Only a few second later, the door was opened and a middle-aged man peered at them.

"Michael Jones?" Cryer asked.

The man nodded. "What do you want?"

"You actually, sir. You were due to appear in court on a charge of drunk driving on the 15th of last month. Our records show that you didn't attend. We are therefore forced to place you under arrest," Cryer explained. The man appeared to want to say something, but then suddenly, he reached out and took a swing at the sergeant with his right fist. Brind moved in to stop him, but he simply pushed her out of the way, being more then almost two feet taller and at least sixty pounds heavier than her. She scrambled back to her feet, torn between chasing after the man and making sure that the sergeant was all right. Cryer was still on the ground, blood dripping from his nose. Brind started to help him up, but he waved her off.

"Go, go after him!"

Brind didn't need to be told twice. She could see the man in the distance and started running. He was turning left, into what she knew to be a blind alley. Running as fast as she could, she reached the end of Monfort street and turned left as well. The man was making his way along the row of parked cars lining the alley. He was trying out the doors of the parking cars, probably looking for one that careless owners had left unlocked. The activity was slowing his progress, allowing her to catch up with him.

"Stop right there! I'm a police officer," she yelled again.

The man turned to look at her and took off again. It would only be a matter of moments until he reached the end of the alley, effectively trapping himself. Wanting to avoid a direct confrontation and hoping to have the element of surprise on her side, seeing as to how easily he had knocked her down earlier, she lunged at him from behind, tackling him to the ground. They both went down hard, but even with the momentum, her weight was not enough to pin him to the ground. She saw early morning sunlight glinting off the blade a second before he thrust it at her, but by then it was already too late and although it all seemed to happen in slow motion, she was powerless to stop the knife from burying itself in her right side. The sight of the knife sticking out of her body was so surreal, she would have laughed hadn't it been for the searing pain that was spreading out from her side. It was so intense, that she hardly felt the knife being yanked free again. She managed to press a hand against the injury in a feeble attempt to staunch the heavy flow of blood before her legs gave under her. The world tilted and suddenly she was looking at the sky, without even having felt her body impact the pavement.

oOo

The punch had been hard enough to send his ears ringing and nearly made him black out. By the time Cryer had been able to gather his bearings and get back to his feet, neither Brind nor Michael Jones were anywhere to be seen. Cryer glanced down Monfort Street into both directions, but nothing. Right would take him deeper into the residential neighborhood while the busy city laid to his left. Jones was a local, familiar with the area, even when panicked, he would probably have chosen the direction that offered a greater chance of escape. Cryer wiped the blood from his split lip and broke into a run. He had just reached the end of Monfort Street, still without catching sight of his colleague or their suspect, when he spotted the figure lying on the ground in an alley. Even from the distance, he could make out the uniform.

A few instants later he was by Brind's side. She was curled on her side, one bloodied hand pressed against her right side, underneath the ribcage. The blood was hard to see on the dark uniform, but it had already spread out onto the pavement in a fast growing crimson stain. The fact that she was still bleeding reassured him that she was still alive, but still, he reached out to check for a pulse to make sure.

Her eyes drifted open at his touch, staring up at him with confusion and pain.

"Listen to me, it's going to be all right," he reassured her, even though he knew it was probably a lie. An ambulance was unlikely to arrive on time, given how fast she was bleeding out. He was about to reach for his radio, when Brind snagged sleeve with her hand.

"Knife..." she whispered, obviously trying to warn him that the suspect was armed. "Go..." Cryer ignored her and radioed the station. The suspect could wait, getting help for Brind couldn't.

He was midway through giving CAD his location when he sensed something behind him. Ready to defend himself and Brind, he whirled around. The knife slashed into his arm, cutting clean through the sleeve of his uniform. Cryer fully expected his opponent to move in for the kill, but for some reason, Jones hesitated, knife raised. For a moment, their eyes locked, and all Cryer could see was fear and desperation. Then, Michael Jones simply dropped the knife. As if all the fight had suddenly gone out of him, he meekly allowed himself to be handcuffed.

oOo

"You really should get that seen to." Bob Cryer looked up. He'd been so lost in thought he'd been completely unaware of Inspector Frasier's arrival.

"Pardon, what did you say, ma'am?"

"I was just saying that you should get that cut seen it. It looks pretty nasty."

"It can wait." He meant it, the cut had almost stopped bleeding by the time the ambulance had arrived and then the paramedics had been busy trying to save Brind's life.

"Any news?"

"None yet."

"All right, I'll see if I can find her doctor. Will you look after these two for a moment?" For the first time Cryer noticed that a middle-aged woman and a girl were standing a few feet away, watching their exchange.

"Mrs Brind, this is Sergeant Bob Cryer." Christine introduced him. "He was with your daughter this morning," Christine explained, before she left them alone.

"I'm really sorry about what happened, Mrs Brind. I wish I could have done something to prevent this from happening," Cryer said sincerely.

"It's not your fault. The inspector told us that she was attacked by a man she was trying to arrest."

"Yes, that's right," Cryer said. He couldn't even begin to articulate how much he blamed himself for what had happened. He should have been better prepared for resistance. He had been on the job long enough to know that anything could happen, even on a seemingly routine call as this had been. But Jones had taken him completely by surprise, and he had told Brind to go after him, never considering that the man could easily overpower her as well. Of course, he hadn't known the man had had a knife, he certainly hadn't been holding one when he had opened the door, but even without a knife, he would have been more than a match for Brind.

"Do you know...can you tell us how she is doing?"

"I honestly don't know. She was holding on when they brought her in..." Cryer trailed off. He hated delivering the bad news, and would never get used to it, especially when a colleague was concerned. They spent a moment in uncomfortable silence, until Inspector Frasier returned with a young man in a white coat in tow.

"Mrs Brind?. This is Dr. Richards."

"I've been treating your daughter since her admission."

"How is she? Will she be all right?" Mrs Brind asked anxiously.

"Let's talk in my office," Dr. Richard told them. Mrs Brind and the teenage girl followed him, leaving the two officers behind in the waiting area.

"How is she?" Cryer asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Not good. Apparently, the knife hit an artery and she nearly bled out. She went into shock and they are still trying to stabilize her. What exactly happened out there?"

Cryer quickly related the events that had led up to the fateful encounter. "So you didn't see that he had a knife?"

Cryer shook his head. "No, ma'am. I'm certain he wasn't holding it when he opened the door. He must have had it stashed somewhere on his body."

"Must be," Frasier agreed, but Cryer could tell that she was having doubts. As did he.

"Has he said anything so far?"

"DCs Lines and Carver are interviewing him now."

"There was something odd," Cryer began.

"What was that?"

"I've only remembered it now when you asked about the knife, but I'm sure I saw a stain that looked like blood on the carpet when he opened the door. I was going to ask him about it, but I never got the chance. Has someone been around his apartment?"

"Not as far as I know, but I'll send someone over to check it out. It could be that you walked in on him in the middle of something and that was why he attacked you." Frasier thought out loud.

"Maybe. Aside from drugs, I can't really figure any reason why someone would react like this."

"The FME said he was clean. No sign of him being a user. But we will get to the bottom of this. Not you though," she added. "You are going to get yourself seen to. I don't want to see you at the station before someone has had a look at the cut and at your face." She motioned to what had to be pretty impressive bruises from the feel of it.

"Yes, ma'am." Cryer knew that protest was pointless. He sat back down in the plastic chair.

"I should get back to the station. If there is any news about Brind, I want you to call me as soon as possible, all right?"

"I will."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

oOo

"You know we better have more luck at the next address," June said as she and Martella left the doorstep of the second house they had been to that morning, trying to track down a list of bail jumpers as ordered by chief inspector Conway.

"You know what I cannot figure out is where people are this early in the morning. I mean, it's barely six and we have been at this since five. They can't possibly be all at work yet," Viv Martella considered.

"Well, all I can tell you is if I were to jump bail, I certainly wouldn't hang around at home and wait for the police to show up at my doorstep."

"Yeah, especially of you had just embezzled almost 50,000 pounds," Martella laughed, referring to the latest person on their list, one Carl Ettinger, wanted for jumping bail on a charge of fraud. Like their first target, Mr Ettinger hadn't been home.

"If I were him, I'd relocate. Somewhere warm, preferably. You think that supermarket is already open?" Martella pointed across the street to a small corner store.

"I don't know. What do you need?"

"Breakfast, of course. I got into work a bit late, and then I ran into Conway on the way to the briefing so I couldn't exactly head to the canteen for a quick bite first."

"Yeah, he seems to be on the warpath once again. Probably has the chief super breathing down his neck."

They were just about to cross the street, when they heard a woman's voice call for their attention. "Officers! Officers!" A young woman came hurrying towards them. Her face was flushed red and she was panting heavily.

"What's wrong?" June asked.

"My friend, she needs help. You have to do something!" the woman exclaimed. "He's gone!"

"All right, calm down and start from the beginning. What happened?" The woman took several gulping breaths before she started to speak. "My friends and I, were on the way to work. We took a shortcut across the park and suddenly Jason disappeared. Please, you have to find him!"

"Who is Jason?" June asked, trying to make sense of the garbled story.

"Janine's son. She was going to drop him of with his sitter on the way, like every morning."

"How old is Jason?"

"He's four, he just turned four last month," the woman said, sounding close to tears.

"Take it easy." June told her gently.

"Is your friend still at the park?" Viv asked.

"Yes, Janine and Tina are still looking for him. I went to find some help. I'm just glad you two showed up." Martella and June followed the woman into the park across the street.

This early, the area was deserted so they quickly spotted the two women sitting on one of of the benches at the playground., One of them was crying, presumably Jason's mother, while another young woman was trying to console her, talking to her softly.

"Hello, Ms....? We are officers from Sun Hill police station. And you are?" "Janine, Janine Kent. My son, he's gone. He just disappeared," the woman said between sobs.

"Calm down. Tell me exactly what happened," June instructed.

Martella left it to her colleague to deal with the distraught woman. June was much better at his sort of thing than she was. Instead, she turned to the other two women.

"Why don't you show me where Jason was the last time you saw him?"

"He was right there, trying to get on the seesaw. The next moment he was gone," the woman who had met them on the street explained.

"Do you think someone could have taken him?" she asked Viv fearfully.

"It's far too early to say that. He could have just wandered off," Viv replied guardedly, casting a searching look at their surroundings. To tell the truth, she wasn't sure yet what to make of the story. An abduction at this hour, when hardly anyone was around seemed unlikely.

Aside from a few shrubs at the far end of the playground there were few places were a toddler would not be seen and if the women had really only been distracted for a short amount of time, it would have been hard for anyone to take the child without being noticed. Still, it would probably be better if she called CID in on this. They could decide how to follow up on the matter.

"Did you see anyone around?" Viv asked trying to gather as much information before she did phone the station. If this was an abduction, then any information that could give them a head start was vital.

"I'm not sure. There was a man walking a dog, I think, but I didn't really pay attention," the other woman, Tina or so Viv assumed, mentioned.

"Yes, there was a man with a dog. One of those tiny little ones. I only noticed him because he had a big tattoo on his neck and I remember thinking that it was a pretty weird design..." the other one said.

"Can you remember what the design was?"

"Yeah, I think I can. Can I draw it for you? It's sort of hard to describe." Martella handed the woman her notepad and watched her draw with looked like a star or possibly a sun, encased by two off-set squares.

As far as tattoo designs went it certainly was odd. But maybe that was just what was going to help them find the man, whether he was a witness or a suspect.

"He must have been pretty close then, if you could see his tattoo so well?" she asked.

"He must have," Tina replied pensively.

"Yes, don't you remember," her friend prompted suddenly. "He was talking to Janine over there. She asked something about that dog of his. You know how she has always been wanting a dog, but wanted to wait until Jason is older..."

"So this man was talking to Janine?" Viv wanted to be sure. If that was the case then Janine must have gotten a close up view of the man and could probably recall more details than her friends, who as far as witnesses went hadn't been too bad either

oOo

By the time DS Roach and DC Dashwood arrived from the station, Viv had done a quick round of the park, just to make sure that the toddler hadn't simply wandered off and the women had missed him in their frantic search, but there was indeed no sign of the kid anywhere. At the early hour, the only other person she had encountered in the park had been an elderly man. She had briefly spoken to him and taken down his name, but he had denied seeing anything and claimed he had been busy reading the morning paper on one of the benches. He didn't seem a likely suspect and if it had been indeed an abduction as Viv was starting to suspect, the kidnapper most likely wouldn't have hung around an waited for the kid to be missed. She also had a look at the vehicles parked near the park, but had remarked nothing out of the ordinary. She had just returned to where June was still with the three women, when the two detectives turned up.

"What's the story?" Ted Roach asked, coming directly to the point without bothering with pleasantries. They all knew that in an abduction time was of the essence.

"As far as I managed to get the story from the mother, she and a few friends were on their way to work and took a shortcut through the park before dropping off her son at the sitter's. Jason Kent, that's her four year old son, was playing on the playground while she was chatting with her two friends. They claim they were distracted for only a second before they noticed that the kid was missing. I had a look around and there is no sign of him anywhere. The park is pretty big, so it might be worth doing a more thorough search."

"We could call in the dog unit," Mike considered.

"I want to talk to the mother first. This might turn out to be nothing," Ted said, but sounded unconvinced. "Are there any witnesses? Anyone see anything suspicious?"

"The two women I spoke to both remember that Jason's mother, Janine Kent was talking to a man with a small dog just before the kid went missing. I tried to get a description, but all they remembered was some tattoo on his neck and possibly dark clothes."

"White or black guy?"

"They say white." Viv related. "I haven't spoken to the mother yet. June's with her now," Viv pointed across the playground to where June was sitting with the distraught woman. "She's a wreck, understandably."

"The dog could have been used to lure the kid," Mike thought out loud. "It wouldn't be the first time some sicko used that trick to get a kid to trust him."

"I'm going to have a word with the mother and see about getting a picture of the boy," Ted decided and headed over to June and Janine Kent.

"What about other witnesses?" Mike asked after Ted had disappeared.

"The park is pretty deserted this early, but I did talk to one Ronald Wheeler. I've got his address, but he said he didn't see anything. He doesn't match the description of the man with the dog," she added, anticipating Mike's next question. "I also asked Janine's friends to tell me a little about the family and it turns out that Janine is an a custody battle with her ex-husband and it seems to be pretty ugly."

"Well done," he complemented. "You'll be putting us out of a job one of those days."

Viv smiled.

oOo

After talking to the mother, Roach had decided to send her home with June. She wasn't going to be any help in her present condition, but she had given them a recent picture of her son, plus the jacket he had worn that morning. With that, they had something the dogs could use to pick up the missing boys scent. Giving the urgency of the situation, their request for a dog handler was promptly approved and half an hour later, a handler from the K9 unit showed up with a search dog. The handler introduced herself and they filled her in on the situation.

"Is there any lake or pond in this park?" she asked after they had finished relating the information.

"Not that I know of," Mike replied.

"I didn't see anything like that when I checked the area earlier," Viv said. "Why is it important?"

"Well, Bronco here is trained to search for living persons. He isn't a cadaver dog and even those can only sniff it bodies in shallow water."

"Then let's hope that isn't what we are looking for," Roach said grimly, casting a look around.

"You have an object with the boy's scent? At best something he has worn recently," the handler asked.

Roach handed her the jacket. "According to his mother, he's worn it this morning on the way here."

"That should do nicely. It's good that there are so few people about. Fewer scents to throw Bronco off track," the handler told them and held the jacket for the dog to sniff.

"Come Bronco. Go find!" she ordered the dog. Bronco didn't need to be told twice. He sniffed the jacket and started tugging at the lead almost immediately. The handler and the police officers followed the dog as he pursued the scent across the park, traversing lawns with little regard to the neat gravel path. At least to Viv the straight path they were taking seemed an unlikely pattern of movement for a four year old. She would have expected him to wander around, more or less without aim. They soon made it to the other end of the park, through the gate and out into the street. A few dozen feet down the street, the dog suddenly stopped. He turned in a circle a few times.

"He's lost the scent," the handler informed them.

"What does that mean?"

"It could be any number of things that made him lose the scent, but in this case, with so few people about, it is most likely that the boy was taken into a car."

"Are you police?" They turned, seeing a man walking up to them.

"I'll deal with this," Viv said quietly to her colleagues and approached the man. "I'm WPC Martella from Sun Hill station. Can I help you?"

"I want to report a crime."

"What sort of crime?"

"Some idiot hit my car!" He pointed over to a dark blue Volvo. The rear end was clearly dented. Martella walked over to take a closer look. "I don't suppose you saw the other driver?" she asked, hoping against hope that they had found themselves another lead, maybe another witness who had seen Jason.

"Of course, I saw him. I was just coming out of the drugstore over there," he pointed across the road. "I called for him to stop, but he nearly ran me over, that idiot. Didn't even slow down. He damn near killed me!"

"Calm down, Mr....?"

"Mr Reynolds, Gary Reynolds."

"All right Mr Reynolds. What did the car look like?"

"It was a white van. I think a Volkswagen, maybe. Pretty old and could have used a wash."

"Did you see the driver or plate number by any chance?" Viv asked. So far there was nothing to indicate that the white van was in any way linked to Jason's disappearance, but the timing made her suspicious. There were not that many people out in a rush at this hour.

"Not really. Didn't get a good look at him, it all happened so far," Mr Reynolds shrugged. Viv looked over what she had written down. "Well, you'll need to come down to the station to make a formal complaint. But I'll look into this," she promised.

oOo

"It doesn't look like Mr Kent was a winner in the divorce," Mike Dashwood commented as he and Viv walked up the steps of the shabby apartment building. "Why do they always have to live on the top floor?" he complained.

"You are saying that? You spend half the day with your feet up in CID!" Martella laughed. "It's us who are pounding the pavement all day long." She climbed the last of the steps and walked onto the fifth floor landing. Mike followed close behind as she walked along the dimly lit corridor. It was obvious that no one paid rent for the hallways given their dilapidated condition. They made their way to what probably was apartment 508, although there was neither a number nor a name on the door. Lacking a doorbell, Mike pounded his fist against the door.

"Mr Kent? It's the police, please open the door!" There was no reply from inside. He tried again with the same unsatisfying result.

"Maybe he is at work?" Viv suggested.

"Could be," Mike said and shrugged. "Any idea where he works?"

"No, sorry, they didn't mention anything and I forgot to ask," Martella apologized.

"Don't worry, I could have thought if it myself. Or Ted could have,"

"Who is it that you are looking for?" They both turned around at hearing the female voice that was clearly addressing them. It belonged to a tiny woman with white hair and an ancient looking face. She was carrying two shopping bags and seemed almost weighed down by them.

"We are looking for Mr Kent. Could you by any chance tell us where he works?"

"He works as a substitute teacher at that school just up the road."

"Greenwood Comprehensive?" Viv asked, more familiar with the area than Mike was.

"Yes, yes that was the name. I knew it was something with green in it, but you know at my age...." she trailed off. "Are you here because of that business last night? I was thinking about calling the police myself, but he such a nice young man and it really was the first time I've heard him having any visitors since he moved in."

"What happened last night?" Mike asked with sudden interest.

"I don't know. I only heard the noise coming from his apartment. Arguing, loud talking, things like that. It sounded like there were a bunch of people there."

"Did you happen to see any of them?" Martella asked.

"I do not spy on my neighbors, young lady," the woman replied, flustered. "But I did have a little peak," she admitted with a sly smile. "I only saw one of them. A young man with a tattoo. On his neck of all places! He was pounding on Mr Kent's door, shouting for him to open up. I was going to tell him to keep it down, but then Mr Kent opened the door and let him in."

"Thank you, you have been very helpful. Could we have your name please? We may need to talk to you again."

"Nothing serious I hope. Mr Kent is a nice young man. I can't imagine him doing anything that would get your people involved. But you never know, do you? I'm Amelia, Amelia Conner." she added, obviously recalling what the question had been.

"Thank you Ms Conner," they thanked her and headed back to the stairway. Once they were out of earshot of the nosy neighbor, Viv turned to Mike. "What do you think? The same bloke they saw at the park. Maybe Kent had him kidnap his son while he is at work, standing in front of two dozen students. It would be the perfect alibi."

"Possible. I do think we need to see Mr Kent. If only to inform him that we are looking for his son. And while we are at it, we can ask about his mysterious visitor."

"Yeah and he is going to say that it was just a friend and that he knows nothing."

"Since when did you decide that he was guilty? Just because his ex-wife says so?"

Viv shrugged. She didn't know how to explain it. It was just a gut feeling she was having about the case. "It's just a feeling. Also, who else would kidnap the kid of a mother who probably barely makes enough to live on." Viv recalled the cheap clothing the mother had worn and the kids old-fashioned, probably hand-down jacket. These weren't typical targets for kidnapping. Not if the perpetrators expected to be able to obtain a ransom.

"I can think of plenty enough motives and none that I like," Mike replied darkly.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

oOo

Ken Melvin's day hadn't started on a very good note. He had overslept and was consequently rather late for work and when he'd finally made it to the station, he had run straight into Sergeant Peters who had told him that the chief inspector wanted to see him. Ken had not the slightest idea what Conway might want from him, but he doubted that it was good news. He was taking two steps at a time up the stairs to the chief inspector's office when he ran into Yorkie Smith.

"Watch where you're going man!" Yorkie protested as Ken Melvin came to a halt after nearly knocking him over.

"Sorry. It's just that Conway apparently asked to see me," Ken began.

"You too? Peters told me that Conway wanted to see me in his office just now," Yorkie told him.

"I don't think that's a good sign," Ken predicted. Yorkie looked at him, rolling his eyes.

"And there I thought I was up for a promotion," he joked. "Let's hurry before he comes looking for us."

A few seconds later, they were in front of the chief inspector's office, Yorkie was trying to straighten his hair while Ken took a deep breath and knocked at the door. The response was immediate, prompting them to enter.

"You said you wanted to see us, sir?" Ken began, hoping that he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.

"Well, it's nice of you two to finally show up. And don't worry, I'm not going to bite your heads off or anything. I have an assignment for you today."

"An assignment?" Yorkie echoed.

"You heard right."

Ken thought he could detect irritation in the inspector's voice and tried to look smart.

"The thing is and I don't like this any more than you'll like it, but drug's squad has requested two officers from this station to accompany a transport run."

"What sort of transport?" Yorkie asked.

"I was getting to that." Now he sounded definitely annoyed. "As you should know, evidence is normally returned once it is no longer needed. At least in most cases, with drugs that certainly isn't the case. Instead, they are taken to a special facility to be incinerated once they are no longer needed as evidence. Normally, that is drug squad business. But there has been some....concern about security. Apparently they are worried that details of the date and route of the transport might have gotten into the wrong hands, so they have decided to let someone from outside carry the risk and get the blame, should something go wrong. I frankly don't know why they have singled us out for the honor, but to make a long story short, you'll head over to drug squad and there the squad commander will brief you on all the details."

Ken still wasn't sure what it actually was that they were being ordered to do, but he thought that it was prudent to just nod. Either Yorkie Smith had been able to make sense of Conway's convoluted explanation, or he was thinking along similar lines, as he too was nodding eagerly.

"I see we understand each other. And just to make it clear, you aren't to discuss this assignment with anyone."

"Yes, sir," Ken and Yorkie replied in unison.

"Well, off you go. The drug squad commander is expecting you in twenty minutes."

oOo

Ken Melvin had driven through Sun Hill on many occasions, day and night in the line of his job, but now he was seeing their borough with different eyes. The drug squad commander had given them the details of their assignment and pointed out the route to the incineration facility, but he had also stressed, something that Inspector Conway had neglected to mention, that he didn't exactly rule out the possibility that their transport might be followed. He hadn't said it in so many words of course, but that was the distinct impression Ken had gotten. As a result, he was watching carefully for any sign that someone was on their trial, but so far had spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Their route was taking them across the city mostly through more quiet neighborhoods, probably in an effort to avoid the worst of the traffic, but still, things were moving slowly for the majority of the time.

"You know, this isn't so bad," Yorkie commented.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we could be out delivering warrants and getting ourselves stabbed."

"Why would we be getting ourselves stabbed?" Ken wasn't sure he was following.

"Haven't you heard. Brind got stabbed this morning while she was out with Sergeant Cryer. Apparently it's not looking good," Yorkie informed him.

"Oh, I hadn't heard, I'd just gotten in when Sergeant Peters told me that Conway wanted to see me in his office."

"I wonder if Conway will let us off early, after we're done with this."

"I wouldn't count...look out!" Melvin yelled, only now noticing that the vehicle in front of them had for some reason come to a sudden stop.

"Wha..." Yorkie began, but before he could finish, metal was already slamming against metal with a sickening crunch and both officers were thrown forwards by the raw force of the impact.

oOo

Ken Melvin didn't think he'd actually blacked out, but when he opened his eyes and found himself staring into the barrel of a gun, he realized that something must have happened.

His eyes quickly darted over to the driver's side of the van to see Yorkie in a similar predicament. Suddenly finding his mouth dry, he struggled to form the words.

"What do you want?" The masked man behind the gun, only cocked his head and looked over to his accomplice who was threatening Yorkie. Without exchanging a word, the man turned back to him.

"Get out of the car," he ordered.

"Okay, okay. Just don't shoot," Ken stammered.

The man moved backwards, allowing him to climb out of the car, but keeping the gun trained on him.

"What do you want from him?" Yorkie found his voice, sounding as frightened as Ken felt.

"Nothing you need to concern ourself with. Just keep still and do what I say, then I promise nothing will happen to you."

"What about my colleague?" Ken heard Yorkie ask, but he missed the answer for the man threatening him, grabbed him physically by the arm and dragged him from the van. Now Ken was getting a better look at what had happened. Unable to hit the brakes in time, Yorkie had crashed the van transporting the drugs into the vehicle in front of them. No doubt had the accident been staged, he realized now. He cast a quick look around, seeing if there was anyone around who might have seen what had happened and would alert the police. However the choice of the least populated route was working well in favor of the villains. No doubt they had chosen this spot well in advance with the purpose in mind to leave as few witnesses as possible to their crime.

The road they had been on led past an industrial estate and at the moment they were surrounded by warehouses, leaving no curious onlookers or passer-bys that might come to their rescue. Melvin and the gunman reached the sidewalk, while Yorkie and the other man remained in the van. Ken was wondering what they were planning. No doubt they were after the drugs, but why take him out of the car and leave Yorkie there.

A second later, the answer occurred to him and he didn't like it one bit. One officer was enough as a hostage. Two only increased the risk for the villains so most likely, they were going to get rid of him - permanently. As he was being forced towards a dilapidated warehouse, further and further from the street, he knew his fate was sealed. The man was going to kill him, leaving his body here where it wouldn't be found until much later. He needed to do something, He couldn't just let them kill him. His mind was screaming for him to come up with something, anything that would save his life. He considered jumping the man. Although the risk of getting shot would be high, it beat doing nothing and simply letting himself be gunned down.

"Don't even think about it or your friend's brain is going to get splattered all over the driver's seat!" the man warned, as if he had been reading his thoughts. They were no doubt playing on his face clear as day, robbing him of the element of surprise. He saw a glimmer of a chance emerge when they stepped behind a tower of crates, taking them out of view of the warehouse.

"Your radio," the man ordered, extending a hand. With shaking fingers, Ken complied and handed it over. The gunman put the radio into the pocket of his windbreaker. When Ken saw him straighten ever so slightly and his eyes met with cold determination, he knew that it was now or never.

"You'll never get away with this," he began desperately, having no idea what he could possibly say that would talk down the man.

"It might not seem like much of a consolation, but your death will serve a higher purpose." The statement seemed preposterous out of the mouth of a man who was going to kill him any second.

"What purpose would that be?" Ken plunged on, telling himself that as long as he kept talking, the man wouldn't kill him. There was nothing stopping him from pulling the trigger of course, but he needed to cling to hope for as long as he could. Hope dies last, right, he thought.

"Look you can tell me. You are going to kill me anyways, so at least let me know what great cause I'm going to die for," he challenged, idly wondering whether his voice really sounded this squeaky and terrified. It probably did.

"Look, tell me already!" he screamed, desperate not to die. He could see the hint of a smile on the man's masked face. Then, as if in slow motion, he saw him realign the gun. Ken Melvin ducked, aiming his elbow at the man's chin. Bone slammed into bone and the man let out of feral scream, as blood ran down his chin. He fired once, but missed. Ken started running. He was running for his life. He had no idea where he was running to, just not towards the road, his frantic mind instructed him. Because if he did that, the other man was sure to kill Yorkie and then they would both die. Ken didn't even turn around when a bullet hit a crate next to him. He kept running until his luck ran out and he came face the face with a solid wall. He turned around, but it was too late to turn back. The gunman had caught up with him and although his chest was heaving, he calmly strode towards Melvin, gun aimed at his head.

"Say hello to Colin Morris for me!" the man declared. The last thing Ken Melvin saw was the flash of the muzzle, then pain exploded in his head and he knew nothing more.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

oOo

Yorkie Smith heard the rapid succession of gunfire and his heart sank. This could mean only one thing - that Ken Melvin was dead and his bullet riddled body was lying somewhere between half-deserted warehouses, possibly not to be found for days. Still, he watched and waited, eyes glued to the spot where Melvin and the masked gunman had vanished from sight, hoping against hope that Melvin had somehow managed to overpower the man and maybe killed him in self-defense. But of course, that wasn't what had happened. After what seemed like an eternity, the masked man emerged and with quick strides made his way towards them. Yorkie had expected him to climb into the van, but instead he headed to the vehicle that had gotten them into the staged accident. Yorkie heard the motor stutter at first, but then the car, despite the severe damage to the rear end started moving. It only drove a few dozen meters down the road, before it turned into a side road. That appeared to be the signal. For the first time, since the two men had taken the vehicle, the one still threatening Yorkie with a gun, addressed him again.

"Start driving," he commanded.

"Where to?" Yorkie asked, his voice shaking as he tried to start the engine with trembling fingers.

"I'll tell you where." the man simply replied. "Just don't do anything stupid and you will get out of this in one piece. It's not the police that our beef is with," the man declared.

Yorkie swallowed. Under normal circumstances, the man's words would have piqued his curiosity, but right now he couldn't have cared less about their motives. All he knew was that they had killed one police officer already and there was nothing he could do to stop them from doing the same to him.

oOo

"Let me get this straight," DC Lines began, his voice betraying only part of his frustration.

The man who by all indication had stabbed WPC Brind had submitted to his arrest without further resistance, but so far he had refused to make any statement whatsoever. He hadn't denied stabbing WPC Brind, but he hadn't admitted it either. Not that they necessarily needed a confession. The CPS would be able to make the case stick, probably even without Brind's testimony, should she not survive the attack. Lines continued.

"You were just walking around with a switchblade knife in your apartment when the officers rang your doorbell. Then when they told you that they would have to arrest you, you decided to first hit one of the officers, then make a run for it and in the course of your escape, probably fatally injure another officer. Is that correct?" The man gave no reaction.

"Listen, we do not need you to confess to this. The case is crystal clear. You stabbed her. What I would like to know is - why?"

"I must have lost my head," Michael Jones mumbled, speaking for the first time since his arrest.

"When they told me that they would arrest me, I must have just lost it." He looked up at the detectives.

"I did it. I stabbed that officer. That's what you want to hear, right?"

"Part of it, yes," Lines said, mildly surprised by the development. He couldn't quite pin Michael Jones down. He didn't appear remorseful, but his demeanor was far from defiant. Maybe he was telling the truth, Lines thought and he really was just a hothead who had panicked, with tragic consequences.

"But there is something else. We sent officers around to search your house. And you know what they found - blood and more than just what you'd get from a nosebleed. Did you stab anyone else? Where you afraid the police would find out and was that why you attacked the officers?"

"I must have cut myself," Jones simply stated, not making eye contact with either of them.

"There was a lot of blood," Carver stressed. "Where would that cut of yours be, then?"

"It's nothing like that, I swear!" he suddenly exclaimed, burying his face in his hands. "You have to help me."

"Help you?" Carver and Lines echoed in unison.

"Yes, you see, I was forced to do it. I would never have done it, if it hadn't been for..."

"Hadn't been for what, Mr Jones!"

"You won't believe me anyways," he replied dejectedly.

"Try me," Carver challenged, exchanging a look with his colleague that told him that while Lines too was surprise, it hadn't come totally unexpected either.

"They kidnapped my girlfriend - Sophia Darren. They said they'd kill her if I didn't do exactly what they said."

"They told you that unless you stabbed a police officer they'd kill your girlfriend?" Lines repeated, his voice sounding like he could barely keep himself from laughing out loud. Carver had to admit that it sounded more than just a little preposterous, but Michael Jones' desperation seemed genuine.

"Who exactly are they? And where is your girlfriend now?"

"I don't know." Michael Jones shrugged. "I can't tell you, not if I want to live. Just...just charge me already."

"You're going to get your wish soon enough, but I have to tell you, Mr Jones, you are not a good liar." Lines declared. "We are going to charge you with attempted murder. Since we have your confession, the case will be handed over to the CPS. But trust me, if that officer dies, you will be up on a murder charge. And that is a promise."

oOo

Michael Jones had been formally charged and put under arrest for attempted murder, but despite what looked like a swift resolution of the matter, which would no doubt please the people in charge, Carver was dissatisfied. He couldn't get what Michael Jones had said out of his head. He kept wondering that, if he was going to make up some story, why wouldn't he at least try to come up with something a little more plausible. Besides, Carver was convinced that the fear in his eyes had not been an act. Lines had been right about the man being a lousy liar, to the point where at least Carver believed him. It was out of his hands though, the CPS would take over from there and he'd move on to the next case in the pile. He'd been in the middle of investigating a pub robbery when the news of Brind's stabbing had come in.

Carver was about to head up the stairs to the CID office when he spotted Sergeant Cryer. He looked pretty rough with a split lip and a colorfully bruised jaw.

"Ouch, that looks painful, sarge. You should have that checked out!"

"I was at the hospital," Cryer replied, without really answering him.

"How is she? Any news?" Carver asked. He hoped that they would not have to deal with a the murder of a fellow officer. The day was off to a bad enough start as it was.

"I don't know. Her parents just went to see her when I left. But I don't think it looks very good. I heard you and DC Lines interviewed Michael Jones?"

"Yeah, we just had him charged."

"Did he say why he did it?" The sergeant asked, obviously having the same questions weighing on his mind as Carver had.

"He claims he was forced into the whole thing. Claims that his girlfriend was kidnapped and would be killed if he didn't go ahead with it." Cryer said nothing but raised an eyebrow. "I know, it sounds ridiculous, especially since he refuses to tell us, who 'they' are."

"But..."

"Somehow, I do believe him."

"Reg and Tony were at his house and there was no sign of someone else living there," Cryer weighed in.

Carver hadn't known that. He hadn't spoken to them. All he had been told that they had found what looked like blood and that SOCO was trying to confirm it now.

"She could be living somewhere else though. I just think that it is the only explanation that makes any sense."

"What about drugs? Did the FME find anything?"

"No sign that he is a user. His behavior doesn't tally either with that of an addict. I think there must be something else behind it and I'm going to find out what it is," Carver had made up his mind. "See you later, then, sarge."

"Good luck," Cryer called after him.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

oOo

Sophia Darren was not living in one of Sun Hill's more affluent neighborhoods. Jim parked his car on the estate, grimly thinking that he would be lucky to find it still there when he returned. Since the pub where the robbery he was supposed to be investigating had taken place was not far away and a week had passed already without much to show for it, Jim figured it wouldn't hurt to make a little detour first - maybe talk to some neighbors of Michael Jones' girlfriend and see if the story of her kidnapping had anything to it. Jim made his way across the estate and began climbing up the stairs to her flat on the third story. The first thing he noticed was that the front window facing the walkway had been broken and was boarded up with cardboard. Spotting two clearly underage girls out for a cigarette, he walked over to them, in the probably vain hope that they had seen something and felt like sharing with the police.

"Hello there," he began, well aware of the appraising looks he was getting from the girls, even though they couldn't be older than fourteen or fifteen.

"I'm a detective with Sun Hill station and I was wondering if you could maybe tell me since when the front window of Miss Darren's flat has been broken," he indicated the damaged window. The girls shrugged, giggling.

"You sure you're not from the housing authority?" one of them questioned, much to the amusement of her friend, who added, "Since when does the police show up for a broken window? Don't you have real criminals to catch?"

Carver showed them his warrant card which seemed to suitably impress them.

"I was....out this morning and I walked by her flat and I'm pretty sure that the window wasn't broken then. I would have noticed," one of the girls reluctantly told him.

"I didn't notice anything either," her friend shrugged once again.

"Have you ever met the woman who lives in the flat? Her name is Sophia Darren"

"Yeah, I've seen her around." The girl took a deep drag from her cigarette, not appearing the least bit bothered that she was breaking the law right in front of a police officer. Not that Carver would have cared at the moment.

"She's pregnant. Gained at least forty pounds since," the girl added as an afterthought.

Carver tried to hide his surprise. He would have thought Michael Jones would have mentioned that his girlfriend was pregnant, but it might also explain why he was so worried about her.

"Have you seen her today?"

"Nah."

"Me neither. But she must be home. I bet she is with that boyfriend of hers. I heard them throwing around furniture earlier."

"They are always at it," the second girl added.

"Thank you. You have been very helpful." Carver turned, not bothering to take down their names. He wasn't here on official business not that he thought that they would give him their real names anyways, with underage smoking and possible truancy in the mix. He walked back to the boarded up window, this time carefully listening for any sounds coming from inside. He could hear nothing at all.

"Key's under the doormat!" one of the girls called over to him. They were both watching him intently. He was clearly the most interesting thing they had spotted so far that day.

Carver simply waved to indicate his thanks. He didn't want to alert anyone inside to his presence just yet, not knowing what he was up against. It could be all just something innocuous, like Sophia stepping out on Michael Jones and arguing with boyfriend number two while boyfriend number one had stabbed Brind. He had seen stranger things on the job. Carver bent down and lifted the doormat. Indeed there was a key underneath. Carefully and as silently as possible, he slipped the key into the lock and turned it. He listened again for any sign that he had been noticed, but nothing. He pushed open the door an inch and peered through the opening. He was looking into a deserted entry way, but at least now he could hear voices inside. They were subdued, but he easily picked up on the angry tone, even though he could not make out the words from where he was standing.

Confident that for the moment at least, he was safe enough, he entered the flat and inched his way down the hallway to the door at the far end. He passed a doorway leading to the kitchen on the way and briefly glanced inside. It was empty and nothing looked disturbed or out of place. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone crying. It sounded like a child. He was still pondering his actions when the voices gained in volume, allowing him to hear what was being said.

"Shut him up or I promise you he is going to get it!" a gruff male voice shouted, and the child's cry only intensified.

A moment later, a female voice, slightly shaky, replied, "He is just a child and he is frightened. Can't you see that?"

"I don't care! Shut him up! Now!"

Carver could hear the woman speaking in hushed tones, presumably to the child. He couldn't make out all the words, only heard reassurances that everything was going to be all right. Carver inched forwards and opened the living room door. It was only ajar and the opening was enough to allow him a glance inside. A visibly pregnant woman was on the sofa, enveloping a young child firmly in a hug. A man disguised in a ski mask and holding what looked like a semi-automatic stopped with half his back turned to Carver, so that he could only see the obscured profile of the man. He stood mere inches from the door and it was in that that Carver saw his chance. He threw his body weight against the door, pushing it open into the room. With a thud, the door hit the gun man, who as Carver had hoped, lost his footing and went to his knees, dropping the semi-automatic in the process. They both dove for the fallen weapon, but Caver got there first. He grabbed the weapon and even while getting back up, he held it pointed at the crouching man.

"Get up. Slowly," Carver ordered. He turned to the woman and the young boy who regarded him in stunned silence. "It's going to be all right, I'm a police officer."

However, the man belied his words, when he used Carver's momentary distraction and lunged for him with a knife that appeared to have come out of nowhere. Carver got off a single shot, but it went wild, hitting the wall behind him. At the same time he squeezed the trigger, the knife sliced deep into his upper arm and caused him to promptly lose his aim on the man. A second shot hit the wall, on the side of the room, just above the sofa. Realizing how dangerous the weapon was and just how close Carver had come to injuring or even killed an innocent victim, he threw the gun towards the window with as much force as his injured arm could muster. The heavy weapon shattered the back window and sailed out into the air. Carver hoped that there were no people about who might be hit by the flying gun or worse, pick it up and get killed or kill someone else with it. The man with the knife had been distracted by Carver's actions. Then, just when Carver thought he was going to attack him again, the man abandoned his plan and ran for the window. Carver made after him, but he'd already jumped through the opening.

Carver looked down, gaging the distance. It seemed far, impossibly far. It had to be a three story drop, only cushioned by some dumpsters underneath the window and he didn't relish having to jump after the formerly armed man, who was already climbing out of the dumpster and breaking into a run. Taking a deep breath, Carver jumped after him. He went down hard and felt his ankle give under the force of the impact. He swore as pain shot up his leg. He clambered out of the dumpster just to spot the masked man disappearing around a corner. Carver made a last ditch attempt to take up the pursuit, but he didn't stand a chance with his ankle more than likely sprained and blood still running down his arm. Sighing, he began to make his way around the building, as it was the only way to get back into the apartment. By the time he made it around, he spotted a familiar blue Vauxhall parked near the building where Sophia Darren lived. He had no idea how reinforcements could have gotten there so fast, even if Sophia or someone else had phoned the police after hearing the shots. He limped back up the stairs, his ankle hurting worse with every step. He'd probably be out of action for a few days, completing reports in CID. He arrived at the flat, to find the door open. Upon entering, he heard two familiar voices coming from the living room.

"So this man who jumped out of the window after the man who held you hostage, said he was a police officer?" the voice belonged to Mike Dashwood, if Jim wasn't completely mistaken. He pushed open the same door he had used as a weapon less than ten minutes ago to find, the woman still holding the boy tight, with Mike Dashwood sitting in an armchair across from her. When he spotted Jim, he jumped to his feet.

"Jim, what the hell happened to you? What are you doing here?`"

Before Jim could come up with a coherent reply, Sophia chimed in. "That's him. He saved us." she pointed at him.

"I don't understand." Mike said, looking at Jim.

"The guy who stabbed Brind this morning, Michael Jones...." he didn't get any further in his explanation when Sophia interrupted once again. "Michael, is he all right?"

"He is being held at the station."

"Why? Why would you hold him?"

"Just calm down, okay. He is being held on a charge of attempted murder."That appeared to silence the vocal young woman. "He stabbed a police officer this morning and injured her severely."

"That can't be right, he'd never...," Sophia whispered.

"I'm afraid it is. He has confessed to it."

"No, no! He must have...he must be lying. He would never stab anyone. He couldn't hurt a fly." Her voice was growing more shrill with every word, bordering on hysteria.

"I'll call for an ambulance." Dashwood said and turning to Jim he added, "I think you should get your story straight."

Jim looked at him questioningly, but Dashwood was already busy radioing the station. Jim sank down on the armchair Dashwood had just vacated. As the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain from both his injured arm and his ankle was starting to become worse. Dashwood was just done on the radio when Martella walked through the door.

"Jim! What have you been up to?"

"He decided to play the hero and get into a fight with a guy holding a semi-automatic. If that hadn't been enough action, he decided to jump out of the window after him."

Martella stared at the two men and said nothing as she was trying to digest the information. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. She pulled Dashwood aside, whispering something quietly to him. Jim couldn't hear what she was saying but right now, he didn't really care.

"Miss Darren? Who is that boy?" Dashwood turned to ask the woman.

"I don't know." she said quietly. "

"Then how did he get here. There was a man, he brought him here. The other man...the man with the gun was already here then."

"Really?" Dashwood questioned more than a little skeptically.

"Yes!" the woman protested. "It's the truth. What do you think! Why should I make something like this up?"

"Miss Darren, this child was reported missing by his mother earlier this morning."

"Then he must have been kidnapped!" the woman reasoned.

"Could you tell me where I might be able to find a towel?" Martella asked.

The woman stared at her for a moment, before she replied. "Uhm, the kitchen, Second cabinet from the door."

"Come on," Martella told Jim. "We need to get that bleeding stopped."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Jim argued, but got up anyways. Limping as little as he could, he followed Martella into the kitchen.

"Sit down before you keel over," Viv told him, indicating a nearby chair. Jim hated to admit to weakness, but he was starting to think that he might actually pass out and that he wanted to avoid at all cost. He sat down. Viv pulled a kitchen towel out of the indicated cabinet.

"Give me your arm," she ordered and looped the folded towel around his arm above the injury. "Ow!" carver winced as she pulled it tight.

Martella gave him a hard look. "You don't want to bleed to death, do you?"

"How did you get here so soon anyways?" Jim asked, mainly in an effort to distract himself from the pain.

"Mike and I were on the estate following up on a missing child, when we heard the gunshots. We didn't know exactly which flat they'd come from, so we split up, Mike found the right place first."

"And that missing kid you were investigation, it's the boy with Sophia Darren. I just thought it was her son."

"Well, his description an exact match to Jason Kent who was reported missing by his mother this morning."

"They live on the estate?"

"The father does. The mother claimed the boy went missing from a playground in the park. I'm frankly not sure how that all works out to us finding him here."

"We must be missing something," Jim agreed.

oOo

Carver hated hospitals with a passion. They were places were people came to die and he tended to avoid them. He couldn't always since he sometimes had to interview the victim of a crime in hospital, but he could deal with that. Now that he was the one requiring medical attention, he couldn't help feeling queasy and apprehensive as he sat in the large waiting room, patiently awaiting his turn in the busy A&E department. Martella had done a good job. Her makeshift bandage had put a halt to the flow of blood and he was no longer dripping all over the floor, like he had in the apartment. He would love to chalk up the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach to the loss of blood, but he knew it stemmed from somewhere else, far removed from the present time. He found his thoughts straying to the past, but was saved from reliving painful memories when he spotted June in the company of a couple enter the waiting area. Jim got up from where he sat and walked over to them.

"June. What brings you here?" he tried to sound as cheerful as possible.

June gave him an appraising look, no doubt taking in his blood stained shirt and ruined jacket. An expression of concern was forming on her face.

"No, no. I'm alright. Got cut, that's all," he reassured her. "Yeah, and I sprained my ankle," he added, realizing that she had no doubt seen him limp, despite his best efforts not to do so.

"Jim, these are Mr and Mrs Kent, they are Jason's parents and they are here to see their son."

"Please to meet you." Carver extended a hand.

"As are we. Are you the officer who found our son?"

"Yes, that's me," Jim confirmed.

"Can you tell us what happened to him? Your colleague mentioned that he was found in the apartment of a woman on the estate."

"That's correct."

"Did she kidnapped him? How did he get there?`"

"We are still trying to answer those questions, but at least as far as I could tell your son wasn't harmed. He is understandably frightened, but it would really help us if we could speak with him. With your permission of course."

"I'm not sure..." Jason's mother began. "I don't want to put him through anymore."

"Janine, if it can help them figure out who did this," Mr Kent spoke to his ex-wife softly.

"All right, but I want to see him first."

"That will be no problem," June said. "It's just that we should talk to him as soon as possible, while the memories are still fresh."

"I can't promise you anything, but we'll consider it," Mr Kent said.

"It'll probably still be a while. The doctors' are still examining him. Why don't you sit down over there and I'll get you a cup of tea," June offered, taking over the conversation. Carver was glad that she did, he didn't do well with the traumatized and grieving. It wasn't his cup of tea by any means. June headed for the vending machine in the corner and although it was painful, Jim followed her.

June was rummaging through her pockets for a coin as she stood in front of the machine.

"Oh great, " she muttered. Carver reached for his wallet with his good hand, glad that he hadn't dropped it with everything that had been happening. He opened it and got out the required coins.

"Here." He handed them to June who turned and looked at him in surprise.

"Thank you." She inserted the coins into the machine and made her selection of hot tea.

"Have you gotten anything from the woman at the apartment?" she asked.

"Not much. She was pretty upset, understandably and wasn't making much sense. She did say that she had nothing to do with kidnapping Jason. She claimed that they were both being held prisoner in her flat."

"You know what bothers me about this whole case?" June asked, while the machine was whirring, slowly filling the brown plastic cup with tea.

"Aside from the fact that it simply doesn't make any sense?" Carver asked, only half joking.

"Aside from that, yes. Everyone so far, both Michael Jones – the man who stabbed Brind this morning, his girlfriend now and also Jason Kent's mother, they all mentioned some mysterious man. Janine Kent's girlfriends saw a man hanging around the park around the time that Jason disappeared. Michael Jones claims that someone has been threatening him and forced him into stabbing Brind...."

"I know what you mean. If it was just one of them, I'd say that they were just trying to shift the blame to some mystery-man, but this guy, whoever he is, he keeps popping up. And the thing is, I saw him. There was a masked man with a semi-automatic in Sophia's flat, threatening her and the boy, so we know there is someone really behind all this."

"But why? That's what I don't understand. Saying mystery-man really is behind both incidents, I still don't see a motive. They are completely different crimes. There is no common denominator, at least as far as I can see." June picked up both cups, leaving Carver behind still standing in front of the drink vending machine, lost in thought.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

oOo

Even half an hour later, when the treating physician finally gave the okay and took Jim to see Sophia Darren, he had yet to arrive at a satisfying conclusion to the many questions swirling through his mind in the wake of the conversation with June. Despite the physician telling him that Miss Darren was all right, Carver still thought she looked rough following her ordeal, as she was resting on a bed, hands folded over her belly rounded by pregnancy. She appeared to be asleep, or at least dozing, but when Carver pulled up a nearby chair, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Ms Darren?"

She nodded which Jim took as a sign that it was all right for him to continue.

"I understand it has been en eventful morning and I'm sure you are exhausted, but could you answer a few questions regarding what happened earlier today? It really is important."

"Yes, yes. I'll be all right. Thanks to you. You saved my life. I'm just sorry that you got hurt."

Carver noticed her eyes wander to his bloodstained shirt and the make-shift bandage around his arm, "It looks worse than it is," he reassured her. "Anyway, it's all part of the job."

"Still it is my fault things got this far. I never should have let it all get out of hand," Sophia said, her eyes avoiding his.

"I'm sure you're not to blame for what happened. As I understand, you were being held hostage by an armed man."

She nodded. "That's true. Still...." she trailed off. "

"What did you mean when you said it was your fault?" Jim knew he was on to something. Now all he had to do was to get Sophia talking.

"I can't say." She shook her head sadly. "I just...I just want to forget the whole thing ever happened. I won't be pressing charges, if that is what you are here about."

"I'm afraid it is not that simple. the boy we found in the flat with you. His name is Jason Kent and we believe he was kidnapped from a playground early this morning, while he was there was his mother. It is possible the man who held you hostage also kidnapped him and he may be responsible for other crimes as well. It is important that we locate him as soon as possible."

"I don't know anything about any kidnapping!" Sophia protested, her voise rising.

"I'm not saying that you are involved, but it would greatly help us if we knew how Jason got into your flat," Carver said carefully, not wanting to upset the heavily pregnant woman unduly.

"I don't really know," she began in an uncertain tone of voice.

"Why don't you start at the beginning," Carver told her, hoping that now that she had had a chance to calm down, she would make more sense than when he had talked to her at her flat.

"Well, I spent the night at my boyfriend's house," she began. "I woke up, because Michael was arguing with someone in the other room. It must have been around four in the morning, I went over there and there were two men in balaclavas in our living room. I wanted to phone the police, but they must have heard me, because one of them came out and dragged me inside. I was very scared, but Michael told me to just do what the men said and everything would turn out okay. One of them told me to get dressed. We took my car and drove over to the estate. There, we went up to my flat. I really thought he was going to rape me or kill me or something!" She shuddered at the memory.

"What happened next?" he prompted when she didn't continue.

Sophia cleared her throat. "I'd been sitting in the living room, trying to watch TV when the doorbell rang. He told me to answer. It was the other man, the one who'd been at Michael's earlier."

"How could you tell?" Jim interrupted as his doubts about her story grew. Not only did the account lack detail, which might be due to shock, but also, there were a few things that didn't tally with what she had just told him. There was the blood in Michael Jone's apartment and the broken window in Sophia's flat, broken sometime during the morning. No, her statement just didn't fit with the physical evidence. Still. he was going to hear her out and reserve judgement until then.

"I...I'm not sure. I thought...I never thought it might be someone else," she blundered, her face reddening. "Anyways, it was him who brought the kid. They told me to take him into the living room and keep him quiet. If I did that, they said, nothing would happen to us. And then you showed up. You know the rest."

Carver still had unanswered questions after she had finished her account. but he decided to let them rest for the moment. The immediate danger seemed over, with the boy reunited with his parents and Miss Darren safe and sound as well. He was about to take his leave when Sophia spoke.

"Detective?" she asked. Carver turned around.

"Do you know what happened to Michael? I mean, is he all right?"

"He is in custody at Sun Hill station."

"In custody?" Sophia echoed. "But he hasn't done anything!"

"You mean you had no idea that he stabbed a police officer this morning and that officers went to his house after his arrest, they found more traces of blood inside?"

"No, I mean yes," she stammered.

"Just stay calm and tell me what really happened." Carver tried again, hoping that this time he would get the truth. He doubted it though, the woman was frightened, he just didn't know what it was that she was so afraid of. "

"I can't. I really can't. I can't put Michael's life in danger like that," she replied. "Please, leave me alone."

"Give me a call if you change your mind," Carver handed her one of his cards. He was sure she wouldn't call, but there was not much else he could do, except arrest her for obstruction, but since she was also clearly a victim, it would hardly look good and he doubted that his superiors would stand for it.

oOo

Christine Frasier said down behind her desk, allowing herself a sigh. She had spent the better part of the morning at the hospital, with Brind's mother and sister. The doctors still couldn't say with confidence that the young woman would survive. The next hours would be critical, they had said. The mother was still with her, understandably. It could be days, even if she survived before she could give a statement. They might never know what happened between her and Michael Jones in the alley and from what she had learned in passing from DC Lines was that while Michael Jones had been charged, there was apparently still some confusion about the motive behind the attack.

Personally, Inspector Frasier didn't care why Michael Jones had stabbed one of her officers. These things happened, unfortunately and it couldn't have happened on a worse day, she thought. Conway was all over her because of the high number of bail jumpers on their patch. Plus, as she had just learned, there had been quite some trouble concerning the possible kidnapping of a child, although that too seemed resolved by now. She didn't really have reason to complain, she thought, it was Brind and her family who were having the truly bad day. She just had a load of paperwork to catch up on. She could probably forget about taking a lunch break. She had just begun reading the first of many reports she had to go through when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she answered, not bothering to hide her irritation. Frank poked his head in. "Inspector, area drugs called several times, demanding to speak with you. They say it is urgent."

"Well, did they leave a message?" Christine asked, while mentally searching for a reason why the drug squad would want something from her.

"No, they said they could only discuss the matter with you. I told them you'd call back as soon as you got in."

"Then that's what I'll do," she replied acerbically. "Thank you Frank."

"Ma'am." He closed the door. Christine sighed once again and reached for the phone on her desk. She asked to be connected to the drug squad office. Several minutes later, after speaking to at least five different people, she was finally on the phone with the commander of the local drug squad, who seemed to be the only one who knew anything about the matter. Not that she knew what it was actually about and as it turned out, it wouldn't be easy to find out.

"You're saying that two of my officers have gone missing?" she repeated what she had just been told, not quite able to wrap her head around what this could possibly have to do with the drug squad, as there were no on-going joined operation. At least as far as she knew, but it wouldn't be the first time, that Conway and Brownlow neglected to keep her in the loop. She listened to the irate reply.

"Yes, of course I understand the gravity of the situation," she lied, still having no clue what the situation was in the first place. But the commander's condescending attitude was starting to piss her off and she didn't want to appear any more incompetent than he probably already thought her to be.

"Can I get back to you on this?" she asked, playing for time. She hated to put things off when two officers might be in danger, but she couldn't do something about a matter she knew nothing about. The grunted reply of the commander was indistinct, but she chose to interpret it as permission to terminate the conversation. Fuming with anger, she slammed down the receiver and headed out of her office.

oOo

June was bored. Jason's parents were with their son right now, and she was still waiting to talk to the boy. She didn't hold out great hopes for anything usable, but after Jim, as he had told her, had gotten nothing but lies from Sophia Darren, any detail they got from the boy would help them bring some light into this confusing case. Much to her relief, the attending physician had been able to tell her that the boy was physically unharmed. Of course, the mental trauma could be devastating, but thanks to Jim, the boy had been found quickly, even though he'd probably have some troubling explaining how exactly he had located them. His actions had been brave, but incredibly stupid at the same time, and she was sure he would be in enough trouble with DI Burnside once he returned from court. June was about to get herself a second cup of coffee, when Janine's ex-husband appeared. June turned to face him, forcing a smile on her face.

"How is Jason doing?" she asked, still hoping that he would allow her to speak to Jason. When she had mentioned it earlier, the father had seemed more receptive to the idea than Janine had.

"The doctor said he should be fine," Jason's father explained, but June could tell from his voice that he was still worried about his son.

"Mr Kent, in my experience, children deal with these things almost better than we as adults, Just give your son sometime," June assured him.

"I hope you are right," he said, his face darkening. "What I came to tell you...we agreed that you could talk to Jason, if you think that it is necessary. Janine, my ex-wife still doesn't like the idea, but she wants the person who kidnapped Jason caught just as much as I do. If you think you need to speak to Jason, then you have our permission. We just want to be there when you do."

"That is no problem. I'm just going to ask Jason some questions, and if he is up to answering them, that is fine, but if he isn't, I'll stop. Is that all right with you?" June asked, treading carefully. In situations like these, the parents were almost more traumatized than the children, especially if they were as young as Jason, and not really capable of realizing what had happened and in how much danger they had been.

oOo

When June and Mr Kent entered the room. Jason was playing with a toy car, watched by his mother, who only took her eyes of him for a second to acknowledge their arrival. Her smile slipped when she saw June. June could almost physically feel the woman's apprehension and distrust. It wasn't going to be an easy interview.

"Jason?" June began. Jason looked up at her. "I'm June. I'm a police officer and I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about this morning. I hear you had quite some excitement."

Jason nodded vigorously, not seeming very much upset.

"You and your mother were at the park this morning. Do you remember that?" June continued. Jason nodded again, but immediately went back to his game.

"Did you meet anyone at the park?" June asked, hoping that she could catch Jason's interest, but from what it looked like, he was completely blocking out what had happened.

Jason nodded once again. "I met Miss Piggy."

"Miss Piggy?" June tried not to sound too surprised, but she couldn't help but wonder if Jason was too young after all for an interview. Maybe she should ask for a trained psychologist to be called in, as she was starting to feel a little out of her depth.

"Miss Piggy is a dog," Jason declared as if it had been obvious. "I want a dog, too. But mom says I can't have one." He turned to his mother, who stroked his hair. "We'll talk about this later, all right? Now, try to tell June about what happened when you met Miss Piggy."

"He asked me if I wanted to see where Miss Piggy lived. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, mom says, but dogs don't count." Jason decided with all the logic of a four year old.

"No, dogs don't count. What about the man who was with Miss Piggy, the man who asked you if you wanted to see where she lived. Can you tell me anything about him?"

Jason shook his head, turning his attention back to his toy car. June shrugged, turning to the parents. "I don't think he's ready to talk about it. He probably doesn't even recall most of it."

"You think?" Janine asked, sounding relieved.

"It's possible. It's a natural reaction. I don't think me talking to him at this point will help any. If he does seem to recall anything, would you please contact Sun Hill station?" June asked. "Also, I'd like to put you in touch with a children's psychologist. She'll be able to answer any questions you might have." June pulled out her note book and jotted down the psychologists name and telephone number, The woman had worked with Sun Hill on several cases involving children and June thought her very competent.

TBC


End file.
